


untitled

by moiraes



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Coda, Episode: s10e20 Angel Heart, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-30
Updated: 2015-04-30
Packaged: 2018-03-26 10:48:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3848113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moiraes/pseuds/moiraes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What are you even looking for?” he asks, deliberately not peering around Cas’s shoulder to get a better look at that Star Trek shirt hanging on the wall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	untitled

**Author's Note:**

> Short coda fic! I'm trying to force myself to write this as often as I can to get back in the habit of writing. :P Untitled (at least for the moment) because I am lazy and can't come up with anything that isn't a terrible pun.

They’re ten minutes away from the motel when Cas makes a sharp noise, then immediately starts digging in his coat pockets and pulls out his phone.

“Cas?” Dean says, alarm building in his chest. “What’s up?”

But Cas doesn’t answer, only frowns harder at the screen as his fingers tap harder.

The short but satisfying encounter with Ronny or whatever the hell the dude’s name was at the bar was enough to keep him from lashing out, but his veins are still thrumming with a low-key discontent. If Cas is just fucking around with emojis or whatever the hell he does in his spare time, Dean’s going to kill him. He’s about to demand some freaking answers when Cas finally looks up and over at him, the glow from the screen illuminating what is very clearly Cas’s “mission” face. This can’t be good.

“We need to make a stop,” Cas growls, and though Dean’s not sure what the hell this is about, he frowns and goes along with it, following the directions Cas reads off of his phone.

And they end up turning into the parking lot of a somewhat rundown outlet mall. Whatever he’d thought the “stop” would turn out to be, it sure as hell wasn’t that. “Uh, Cas?”

“Yes?” Cas asks idly, and fuck, he’s already reaching for the door handle. Whatever hopes Dean had that he’d somehow taken a wrong turn are rapidly disappearing.

“What are we doing in a crappy mall, man?”

“It’s Claire’s birthday.” The answer is so befuddling that Dean just ends up staring for a good thirty seconds. “I’ll only be a few minutes,” he adds, and the set of his jaw tells Dean that there’ll be no talking him out of this.

“Great.” He sighs and takes a moment to contemplate when the hell his life had become this, driving an Angel of the Lord to an outlet mall to buy a birthday present for the girl that tried to set up her friends to kill him with a fucking axe the last time they met. “Do you even know what you’re looking for?” he asks, and almost immediately regrets it. He’s not sure he wants to know the answer.

Cas hesitates, and in the split second the doubt takes to flutter across his expression, Dean can already see where this is going to end up going.

“Fuck,” he says, and then resigns himself to the inevitable fate of tagging along. “Okay, come on.” He parks the Impala and wrenches the door open, trying to ignore the delighted surprise he sees cross Cas’s face.

The mall’s all but deserted at this time of night. A few kids are huddled outside under one of the flickering street lights, and Dean narrows his eyes at them as he and Cas stride by. Once they go through the huge set of doors, Cas takes a short glance around, and then makes a bee-line for one of the stores.

“Hot Topic?” Dean reads, casting a skeptical look at the storefront. It’s decorated in reds and blacks and looks like an emo kid’s wet dream. “What the hell?”

“Google says it’s a popular store amongst teenagers,” Cas says gravely as they walk in, and nods to the bored-looking girl behind the counter.

“Google,” Dean repeats, the slightest bit amused despite himself. “Seriously?” When he’d seen Cas frantically typing on his phone, he’d been picturing more of a life-or-death, ‘I just had an idea about what that guy said about the faith healer,’ ‘this may be a lead,’ type thing, but no, Cas had been asking Google about birthday presents for a teenage girl. Okay.

He watches somewhat warily as Cas makes his way to one wall, peering at the various t-shirts and armbands and creepy big-headed dolls that line the shelves. “You don’t think this place is a little… I don’t know, uh. Much?” he asks, unsure of the word he’s looking for. And yeah, okay, the tats on the girl’s arm are pretty cool. And wait is that a sunshade with the Millennium Falcon on it? That’s actually pretty freaking–

No. He tears his eyes away and stubbornly grasps at the small bits of irritation that remain.

Cas just makes a small humming noise, still focused wholly on the selection of novelty t-shirts. “I’m sure I’ll know the right gift when I see it.”

Yeah, that’s reassuring. He’s not exactly chomping at the bit to get back to Sam and Claire, but he doesn’t really want to spend the next three hours in here watching as Cas lolls from one end of the store to the other, either. “Cas, man, come on. Are you sure even getting her a gift is a good idea?” He’s tempted to bring up the whole ‘you’re not her dad,’ thing again, for all the good it’ll do.

Cas finally turns to look at him, and the fierceness in his eyes makes Dean falter a moment. “It’s her birthday, Dean.” His voice is low and clear and no-nonsense. “I know you said that I’m nothing to her, that she’s better off alone, but.” He sighs. “She deserves just a little bit of happiness.”

And what the hell can he say to that? He settles for an, “Okay,” torn between exasperation and affection. “Okay.”

He’s a bit quieter after that, and follows sedately as Cas makes his way across the store. It’s a few minutes later when he hears Cas say his name. He looks up and drops the Hawkeye toy he definitely was not messing with to see Cas clasping the ugliest looking stuffed animal Dean has ever seen. “I found it,” Cas announces proudly, holding the thing up.

“What the hell is that supposed to be?” Dean asks, somehow both repulsed and intrigued by the thing’s squashed face.

“It’s Grumpy Cat.” Cas says it like it’s supposed to mean something to him, the capital letters almost audible, but Dean just shakes his head. Cas sighs, some of the enthusiasm in his eyes dimming. “In one of Claire’s texts, she compared me to Grumpy Cat. I looked it up on Google and apparently she’s a very famous cat. The videos were rather entertaining.”

So Cas has spent time Googling cat videos. Dean can’t even be surprised anymore. It’s ugly as hell, but the way Cas cradles the thing to his chest sparks something deep and warm in his own chest, and he knows they’re going to end up taking the damn thing back to Claire. “All right,” he says, quirking his lips upward, clapping his hand to Cas’s shoulder. He lets it linger for longer than he would usually dare, reveling in the small, fond smile he gets in return. “Let’s get a gift bag and get the hell out of here.”

And if he slips that Batman keychain onto the counter, too, well, that’s his own damn business.


End file.
